


the devil doesn't come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns; he comes as everything you've ever wished for

by luvridden



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e12 The Number of the Beast is 666, Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:00:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29528856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvridden/pseuds/luvridden
Summary: Will scoffed. “Bluebeard’s wife.” he spat. “Secrets you're not to know yet sworn to keep.”“If I'm to be Bluebeard's wife, I would've preferred to be the last.” She hissed back, though still managing to sound impassive.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Kudos: 33





	the devil doesn't come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns; he comes as everything you've ever wished for

“I look at my wife and I see her dead. I see Mrs. Leeds and Mrs. Jacobi lying where Molly should be.” Will admitted, though he omitted where he felt _powerful_ because of her death.

“Do you see yourself killing her?”

“Yes. Over and over.”

“It's hard to predict when brittle materials will break. Hannibal gave you three years to build a family, _confident_ that he would find a way to take them from you.”

“And he has.” Will agreed with an ironic smile. Just to salt the wound, he asked, “What's he going to take from you?”

“Is it _important_ to you that he take something from me?” She retorted.

After a pause, “Hannibal has agency in the world.” he warned. _He still can._

“Hannibal has no intention of seeing me dead by any other hand than his own, and only then if he can eat me.” somewhat smugly, she added, “He's in no position to eat me now.” 

_Not yet. He will._ “If you play, you pay.”

“You have paid _dearly_. It excites him to know that you are marked in this particular way.”

Will looked off to the side and asked quickly, nearly interrupting her, “Why?”

“Why do you _think_?” she said, exasperated.

Will scoffed. “Bluebeard’s wife.” he spat. “Secrets you're not to know yet sworn to keep.”

“If I'm to be Bluebeard's wife, I would've preferred to be the last.” She hissed back, though still managing to sound impassive. 

His stomach dropped as he briefly looked back at the years, thinking about Bedelia’s insinuation. That time when he leant back against the ladder and Hannibal was distractingly close. That time Hannibal was cleaning his knuckles and reflected Will's answering smile when asked if he was thinking about killing him when killing Randall Tier. “Is Hannibal…in _love_ with me?” he croaked. In his very soul, heart of hearts, he knew the answer already.

“Could he _daily_ feel a stab of hunger for you? And find nourishment at the very sight of you? Yes. But do you…” she paused performatively, as if to search for words. “ _ache_ for him?”

Will deigned not to answer, sitting with the revelation. 

* * *

He sat with it and processed it for days. He processed it with whiskey, with case files. For a few days, he didn't see Hannibal and declined Molly's calls. He was, of course, busy with other things, like inflaming the Dragon. 

_Come on. I need just one slip up._ he thought. But, he was a good fisherman. And he was _curious_ what would happen. So he put his hand on Chilton’s shoulder. Hours pass, no talk from Frederick, until Jack pulls Alana and him into his office. 

Frederick Chilton, bare from the waist up, is splayed across the screen. “I have had a great privilege. I have seen with wonder and awe the strength of the Great Red Dragon. All that I said was lies from Will Graham.” -- Alana looks at him in worry now -- “I have blasphemed against the Dragon.” he recited, recoiling in fear of the Dragon who loomed behind the camera.

“Even so, the Dragon is merciful. Because I was forced to lie, he will be more merciful to me than to you, Will Graham. Reach behind you and feel the small knobs on the top of your pelvis. 

Feel your spine between them; that is the precise spot where the Dragon will snap your spine. There is much for you to dread. From my own lips, you will learn a little more to dread.” 

Then, a man crawled across and over the couch, leaning forward. There's a muffled screaming. And the man pulls away -- the red dragon tattoo moving on his back -- revealing a lipless Chilton, opening his mouth wider and screaming for all he's worth. 

It's too much, all at once. Will bends at the waist, nausea rising in his throat; screwing his eyes shut and clamping his hands over his ears to drown out the screaming. Even worse, some part of him _liked_ the screaming, as much as it grated on his ears. Slowly, he straightened, cataloging this away in his memory palace. 

_Hannibal would be proud._

* * *

Will sits hunched over, wringing his hands.

“Would you like to talk about what happened with Frederick Chilton?”

_Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil._ “The divine punishment of a sinner...mirrors the sin being punished.”

“ _Contrapasso_. You play, you pay.” 

Will tilted his head, an enigmatic expression on his face. As he leaned back and straightened up, he said, “Chilton languished unrecognized until ‘Hannibal the Cannibal’. He wanted the world to know his face.”

“And now he doesn't have one.”

“Damned if I will feel.” Will hissed. 

“We are all making our way through the Inferno. Dante's pilgrims.”

“No, we're not pilgrims. We're _pets_.” Will corrected with a dry smile. “And the Great Red Dragon kills pets first.” 

“You put your hand on Dr. Chilton's shoulder in the photograph. Touch gives the world an emotional context. The touch of others makes us who we are. It builds trust.” She implied, knowing exactly where to push at his weak spots where his armor hadn't covered the soft belly.

“I put my hand on his shoulder for authenticity.” Will argued weakly. 

Bedelia is too sharp for any of his tricks. “To establish that he really told you those insults about the Dragon? Or maybe you _wanted_ to put Dr. Chilton at risk? Just a little?”

“I wonder.” whispered Will, looking away as if stricken. 

A wonderful performance, Bedelia thought. “Do you _have_ to wonder?”

He looked back at her, a bitter smile across his face for a split second. “No.”

“What did you think the Great Red Dragon would do? You were curious what would happen, that's apparent.”

Well, she could just see right through him, couldn't she? 

“Is this what you were expecting?”

“I can't say I'm surprised.” he admitted. 

“Then you may as well have struck the match. That's participation. Hannibal Lecter does have agency in the world. He has _you_.”

And again, Will had to sit with himself. 

* * *

And he sat and lurked and thought. And hatched haphazard plans. 

“The obvious thing is to get him to come to us. Bait him with something he wants more than me.” Will said to Jack as they talked outside the BSU’s labs. 

“He'd have to be an idiot to go for it.” Jack scorned.

“I know. Want to hear what the best bait would be?” 

“I'm not sure I want to.”

Will elaborated, somewhat rolling his eyes, “ _Hannibal_ would be the best bait.”

“Why in God's name would anyone want to meet Hannibal Lecter?”

“To _kill_ him, Jack. The Dragon could absorb him that way, engulf him, become _more_ than he is.” Will said.

Jack pointed out, “You sound pretty sure.”

“I'm not sure, who's sure? I'm not even sure Hannibal would draw the Dragon. I just say that it's our _best shot._ ” Will implored, making sure to make eye contact. 

Jack took his own bait. “Set him up how?” he asked reluctantly.

“We take Hannibal into federal custody.” Will said. “We fake an escape.”

* * *

Bedelia had to pour herself a goddamn drink after hearing _this_. _This._ Of all things. “We assign a moment to decision. What you propose is so _thoughtless_ , I find it difficult to imagine that moment exists.”

“Decisions are made of kneaded feelings.” he said, an eyebrow raised. “They're more often a lump than a sum.”

“However you think you're going to manipulate this situation to your advantage, think again.” she spat.

He confessed, “There is no advantage. It's all degrees of disadvantage.” 

“‘Who holds the Devil, let him hold him well. He will hardly be caught a second time’.”

Will hissed. “I don't intend Hannibal to be caught a second time.”

“Can't live with him, can't live without him.” she said, then scoffed. “Is that what this is?” she scoffed to cover the fear building in her throat.

He whispered, “I guess this is my Becoming.”

“What you are ‘becoming’ is pathological.” She said, too anxious to just sit around and _talk_.

“Extreme acts of cruelty require a high degree of empathy.” he repeated her own words to her spitefully.

“You've just found religion. Nothing more dangerous than that.” she said as she refilled her drink. 

As Will stood, he said breezily, “I'd pack my bags if I were you, Bedelia. Meat's back on the menu.” 

“You righteous, reckless, _twitchy_ little man.” she said to him, “He might as well cut all of our throats and be done with it.”

“Ready or not. Here he comes.” he promised, taking his leave of the practice. 

* * *

As Will stride into the nearly empty cell, Hannibal said: “I thought you said your good-byes.” 

“We've one last good-bye between us.” Not counting the orderlies that stood guard, of course. 

“You didn't just say good-bye, though, did you? That little extra bit at the end. What was that you said?”

Will was embarrassed, just a little. “You'd never have turned yourself in unless I rejected you.” 

“Yes. That extra bit. I believe that's what they call a ‘mic drop’. You dropped the mic, Will, but here you are having to come back and pick it up again.” Hannibal said, somehow in a power position despite the straightjacket. 

Will licked his lips, continuing, “I knew you would keep running if I kept chasing you. I knew you wanted me to know exactly where I could find you...when I needed to. “

“And you did.” Hannibal agreed, playing dumb. 

_Goddamnit._ “I need you, Hannibal.” Will confessed.

Hannibal seemed to have taken the bait. “Ding-dong. The Dragon's not dead.” Well, he was closer to biting. 

As Will stepped forward, mere inches between them, he said, “He told you he wanted to meet you, maybe that was a serious invitation. After the big escape, you send a message to the Dragon in the personal ads, ask him for a rendezvous.”

“He won't go near a mail drop.” Hannibal countered, thinking out loud. Enjoying the easy conversation between them.

“He might be curious enough to look at one, see if you sold him. We chose a drop that can be watched only from a few places a long way off, and we'll stake out the observation points.” Will volleyed, hoping with all his bones Hannibal would agree and he could set his own plan into motion. 

Hannibal searched his face. “It sounds weak to you, even as you say it.”

“Secret Service has a setup they've never used; they'll let us have it. You're our best shot, Hannibal. Please.” He looked over his shoulder, then raised an eyebrow as they met eyes again. Hannibal smiled. 

Their van got attacked, the only two left alive. Hannibal told him he worried too much while pulling bodies out of a cop car, then asked him if he was going his way, all the while Will stood complacent by the van on the side of the road. It took him a minute to decide, but in the end, he 'went his way'. 

* * *

A quiet click, and suddenly his right cheek was burning and blood was bubbling up from his mouth and down his chin, his shirt. He was thrown out the open window, pulling the knife wedged in his face and jamming it into Dolarhyde's thigh. Dolarhyde pulled it out of his leg and stabbed Will in the chest a few more times. Hannibal jumped on Dolarhyde’s back and attempted to wrench his neck broken. Hannibal was bucked off and thrown aside, bumping into one of the decoration rocks. The Dragon strides towards him, picking him up and strangling him. 

Will stood from his position and stabbed Dolarhyde in the back twice, swatted away like a fly. Hannibal was kicked in the throat, landing near an axe and pile of firewood, which he used to slice a tendon in Francis’ knee. Will easily plunged the knife into Francis again, together overpowering the Dragon with Hannibal in a brutal pack hunt. Will limped, bent in half. Hannibal looked at him like he was something holy. He decided he liked the feeling of Hannibal's eyes on him and that worshipful look on his face. 

_You are the mongoose I want under the house when the snakes slither by._

Hannibal jumps on his back for the final time, pulling Francis’ neck back and exposing his throat. He bit into the soft tissue at the exact moment that Will lunged and opened up Francis’s abdomen. Will falls as Hannibal does, Hannibal swallowing the flesh in his mouth. The Dragon falls to his knees, every gash on his body gushing blood, then his back as the last of life drains from him. 

Will studied the mixed blood on his hands. He felt the weight of Hannibal's eyes like a brand. “It really does look black in the moonlight.” he croaked, holding a hand out to Hannibal.

Hannibal takes it, pulling him to a stand. “See? This is all I ever wanted for you, Will…” he looks down this time, overwhelmed with affection. “for both of us.” 

“It's beautiful.” Will agreed with a soft laugh, making Hannibal look back at him. He pulls Hannibal closer, kneading his shoulder, fully accepting of what they are together. Will can’t _not_ kill Hannibal. But Will _can't_ kill Hannibal, they won't survive the separation. So he pulls them over the cliffs edge. 

And they hit the water.


End file.
